


Husband, Monster, Father, Son

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: A Simple Man [21]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Canon has more or less committed suicide by now and I regret nothing, Comfort, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Past, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Loss, Healing, I never promised consistancy, Intimacy, Love, Lowbones, M/M, Matelotage, Matelots, Not Canon Compliant, Out on the sea, POV Alternating, Past Torture, Pirate Husbands, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Weakness, Wedding Night, Widowed, at all, because I keep ruining them, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: Greetings again and happy new year, fellow buckaneers! Well, here we are again and things are leaning onto the more fluffy and smutty side this time.This one is especially for you, Turid Torkilsdottir, and I hope it will bring a little solace to the unfortunate lack of "Neighbors & Flatmates" updates <3<3<3 Much love!
Relationships: Billy Bones/Edward "Ned" Low, Muldoon/John Silver (mentioned), Ned Low/Eliza Marble (past)
Series: A Simple Man [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530410
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Husband, Monster, Father, Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TuridTorkilsdottir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/gifts).



**Billy Bones**  
”Bring me the horizon…”  
  
It’s a whisper and Billy barely hears it over the waves, the slapping of the sails and the men. He’s standing behind his lover by the railing, watching sunrise with DeGroots raw, grumpy voice barking out the orders.  
  
Ned stands well enough on his own two feet these days and when he doesn’t, he’s equally able to sit down without wincing. He no longer wears the partially transparent blindfold and although he’s lost a little of his sight on his good eye, he doesn’t appear particularly weakened from it. If anything, he’s alert and tense, but once again quick in his moves, all senses as sharp as the blades attached to his belt. The most clear sign left of what happened to him, is the shivering.  
  
Sometimes it’s just a small shake, other times it’s a full on ague. It’s the latter this morning and that’s the reason they’ve left their bunk to go up and greet the dawn with squinting eyes and stiff joints. Chattering teeth sooner or later disturb the others and neither Billy nor Ned wants to start the day off like that.  
  
They’re heading for Boston and the crew now has welcomed Mary Read for real, she’s sort of Silver’s right hand and the ship’s handyman – or woman – who’re helping out wherever she can. There is no open talk about it, but the men all know that she somehow managed to step on the Captain’s toes quite hard and didn’t suffer any retaliation from it. Since it’s also all but clear she didn’t use any womenly charms to do it, the men respect her as one of them. Mostly, though, the respect is due to her willingness to pull her weight without complaining and her skills in battle.  
  
Billy is pretty sure she even impressed DeGroot during the last raid and that says something. It’s still a little unclear what her actual position is, but Ned calls her “Silver’s bosun” in private and Billy must admit that’s pretty apt. And even without her willingness to fight, she’s an asset in the way she seemingly effortless slides between Flint and Silver when things are getting too tense. Billy has never seen any of those encounters first hand but Read’s negotiating skills are all but clear whenever what usually would’ve ended with another fruitless battle of wills and often blood loss, turns into something that, considering it’s Captain Flint, is almost civil.  
  
Another shiver has him turn his attention to the man in his arms again and he lowers down onto Ned’s ear.  
  
“You’re cold?”  
“It’ll pass.”  
  
Faster if he allows Billy to warm him up. It’s still too early for the men who’re not among the night shift to come up and interrupt them and so Billy discretely opens his shirt to give Ned some heat to lean back into. The offer is accepted and he can feel how his matelot molds into him and the tense muscles slowly dropping some of the strain.  
  
He’s called Elijah Marbles among the crew now. Or just Marbles. Rarely the fake first name. Ned asked for that himself and after a few days, even those with bad memory had gotten used to it. Billy will admit they might’ve improved due to his own frown of disproval with the slips.  
  
Right now, he’s just Ned, though. _His_ Ned.  
  
The thought makes Billy do what he’s not sure he should.  
  
“You wanna make it official?”  
“Official?”  
“Us.”  
  
He looks down at the hand that doesn’t wear the black ring anymore. It’s kept in a chord around his neck, tucked in underneath the shirt.  
  
Eliza. The woman who’s still in Boston, only not alive and waiting. A girl named Elizabeth who might or might not be, alive and well. Boston is not a place where pirates rule, but it’s authorities aren’t enough equipped to stop them from anchoring at port if they’re not stupid enough to raise the Black upfront.  
  
Say what you want about Flint and Silver, but they’re not stupid.  
  
“Ye’d put a ring on my finger…?”  
“And you on mine. If we want to.”  
  
Ned rubs the white marking from where the black ring and, prior to that, his wedding band used to sit and Billy bites his lip.  
  
“Doesn’t have to be on _that_ finger.”  
  
 _I’m not trying to erase her, love.  
  
_ The man’s hand turns to swirl fingers with Billy’s. It’s not rejection, not a yes, but it’s probably the only answer Ned could give right now.  
  
 **Ned Low  
** He’s not wearing the ring because his hands have been too sore. It’s kept in a chord around his neck along with his old wedding band. It’s a miracle he hasn’t lost them. The ring of a husband and that of a widower. He’s not really thought about the black band in that term before, but it’s probably the reason why he started wearing it. He didn’t want to loose the wedding band and couldn’t stand the white stripe of skin showing what used to be.  
  
Lately, his dreams have been invaded not only by the old pictures of loss, but of happy moments as well. He’s seen Eliza’s impish smile when he kissed her at their wedding. He’s seen Elizabeth’s newborn red skin, heard her first screams outside the safe womb and felt her light weight in his big and callous, shaking hands. He’s sen his wife smile at him and their newborn and then the dream has shifted, showing coffins instead and that’s usually when he wakes up screaming or whimpering, dripping from sweat and with the loss fresh like a newly cut wound.  
  
After Eliza’s death but before Billy, the dreams didn’t make him cry. He would breathe quickly, too shallow and there would be prickles before his eyes, his hands curled into knotlike fists and when he came back to the now and the swaying hammock on the ship, he would have another sip of absinthe from the bottle and will himself back to sleep with the images of a dying wife burned into his eyelids.  
  
He wonders if the daughter he left has an image of the father who, in an effort to spare her his past and future, abandoned her. Can you even call yourself a father when you left your only living child like that?  
  
The wind grows a little stronger and his hair is flying around his neck, over his face. It’s strange, Ned thinks, how the waves and the wind no longer give him the urge to raid and plunder. How the mornings no longer are the gateway from one hell to another. The one of nights, where he has no power what so ever, and that of the days, where his rage is ruling everything within his reach. Perhaps that’s why he’s able to see the rage within Captain Flint now. It’s not exactly a mirror of his own, but there are moments where Ned thinks he can spot something underneath the green spite in his eyes, a goal that’s not about riches or freedom, but a thing buried that the crew can’t reach.  
  
Mr. Silver most likely understands it a bit more than the rest and Read, no matter what clothes she wears, has a mind of a wordly woman. Women see things men don’t, Ned learned that in his marriage and it didn’t make him feel threatened, but intrigued. He likes strong women, he’s not denying that and Read is a strong woman indeed. She doesn’t really remind him of Eliza, but she has the same determined look of someone who’s not satisfied with being less than a man just because of a cunt and a pair of tits.  
  
Rebels. He’s always liked them rebels, no matter their gender. It’s the one unifying label he feels comfortable with when it comes to the company of several men. He had a crew, yes, but he was never a part of it, just the hand behind it. The Captain who allowed the lowest of men more freedom than even Vane. The place for an outlet to your lowest insctincts, where on _The Fancy_ , as long as the targets were men. Never women or children.  
  
When your spouse dies, you become a widower. If your parents die, you’re an orphan. But when your children die, what do you call that? If there aren’t anyone alive to call you _father_ anymore, what does that make you?  
  
 **Billy Bones**  
Ned needs him and that still feels new. Billy is used to be needed, it’s been his entire identity for so many years now, he’s not really sure who he is if he’s not helping out his brothers in one way or another.  
  
The way Ned needs him, is very different.  
  
From the outside of their relationship, it looks so practical. Apart from the small gestures of intimacy they allow themselves in the open, there are little signs of the deeper need between them. Little by little, they’ve shared bits and pieces from the past and the present. Huge burdens disguised in small words because they’re simple men, not the kind who could turn shit like that into something intriguing.  
  
This isn’t a story, it’s their lives. Two different sources unexpectedly coming together and in this moment, the tale told by this union, seems like a rather good one – seen with the eyes of a pirate, of course.  
  
They’re back in their bunk now and with the small drapery pulled, the others leave them alone, not even teasing them. Ned lies on Billy’s arm, they’re facing each other and when Billy kisses his forehead, he can taste salt stains from the ocean. He puts a hand over Ned’s neck and starts squeezing it gently.  
  
He’s never really thought about it before, how fragile a man’s neck really is. A snap of his hands and it would break. A hard pressure for a few minutes and the air would never flow again. Still, it’s a soreness much more easy to deal with than some others. There are still nights when Ned wakes up, drenched in sweat and panicking. There are dreams that make him beg _someone_ to stop and the one who cries, is Billy. Silently and only when his lover has come to rest again.  
  
Billy is no doctor, he can’t read people like Silver and while he might be literate, he doesn’t have the knowledge of the world like Captain Flint with all his books and secret history. Ned’s openness is raw and naked, his self-hatred visible if you know what to look for and so is his love. But you don’t look for love within monsters, do you? You only see the threat, never the cause of it, or at least not the deeper one. And since meeting Ned, Billy thinks he might start to, not get to know, but slowly spot some parts of the human beneath the mask of Captain Flint as well.  
  
Maybe, you have to have faced and survived monsters in order to become one yourself. What if survival _either_ means you become more of the human they tried to destroy, or turning you into a monster that could face them in a battle and win? Because you became an even worse one. Less human, more raging. And yes, you’re winning against them, but also loosing more of yourself.  
  
Ned’s heart is beating steadily against his own. He loves holding him like this, just being close together and resting in each other’s company. Billy has had sex with others before, of course, but he’s never felt the urge to hold them like this. It’s always been more of purely carnal thing and since discovering an encounter with another man could be pleasant, he’s prefered that to the company of women. Maybe, come thinking about it, the urge was there only he never indulged.  
  
He recalls a molly he had in Tortuga a long time ago. Fragile thing, huge eyes and waist long, black hair. Billy wasn’t that much older, about twenty, and the molly had approached him with a nervous smile that spoke more about worry than seduction. In the corner of his eye, Billy had spotted some of the other boys and girls, looking like they expected the delicate boy to be rejected and for some reason, that had made Billy angry.  
  
So, when the clearly very inexperienced molly shyly lowered his eyelashes and sat down on Billy’s lap without really asking, Billy just played along instead of shoving him off. He’d been so light but very much a grown man and maybe it was partly out of spite for the other whores who looked at the boy expecting him to be humiliated for the clumsy boldness, but whatever the reason, Billy had smiled at him, tucked one of the black tangles behind the ear and the boy had blushed.  
  
Their hours in the room Billy paid for were surprisingly pleasant in more than one way. The boy’s name has escaped him now, but he’d been sweet and light on his lap, Billy’d let him lead because why the hell not, and he remembers how he could see and hear, for real, that the boy enjoyed it as much as he did. How gentleness and patience came a long way and how good it felt to be ridden by someone who whimpered in the most seductive way everytime Billy hit the right spot.  
  
They’d used a lot of oil, perhaps more than needed, but Billy who’d decided never to think about the time in the Navy ever again, had never really stopped thinking at all. The memories were there and they made him careful, because he couldn’t really reach them enough to turn them into shame. He’d learned kindness and care, justice and friendship on The Walrus and it overshadowed the pain, the shame and the hatred.  
  
And the sweet molly continued the lesson, by teaching him that you didn’t have to be content with merely the absence of pain. That you could have pleasure, _real_ pleasure too. Now, he’s been taking up that lesson again since some time, learning how to not only give and receive pleasure, but love as well. He’s missing it badly and so he leans into his matelot’s ear.  
  
“Wanna get down to the cargo?”  
  
 **Ned Low  
** There was a time where he’d fuck an occasional lover in the bunk without giving two shits about being seen or heard, but that was before and this is the now. It’s best to live in the now, after all, and just because everyone know they’re fucking, it doesn’t mean they’re supposed to watch. It’s not the idea of them seeing him or Billy with cock up the ass that bothers Ned, but the other thing.  
  
The gentleness. The goddamn _weakness._  
  
As soon as the door is closed and a box slightly pushed before it to stop anyone who’d manage to forget about delicacy – which is most of them – Billy lifts him in those ridiculously strong arms and Ned swirls his legs around his lover’s waist, being carried in a way that doesn’t imply weakness but lust, to the mattress Muldoon apparantly hid down there and told Billy about.  
  
Blue eyes are gazing over him, eager, longing – and worried.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
“No.”  
  
Honesty. Ned doesn’t have many virtues, but he’s not a liar, especially not with Billy. He smiles.  
  
“Not sure I’ll be able to, lovey. But I wannae…”  
  
The first time they slept together, when he was still too detached to give his true name, this giant had been so unexpectedly _kind._ Ned thought about it many times once they separated, before they could see each other again.  
  
How Billy hadn’t just taken what he wanted, how he’d taken his sweet time to make it good, more than good, for them both. If Ned’s ever letting anyone inside him again willingly, it’s this man only and no one else. Billy now carries him to one of the barrels, sitting down with him straddled on his lap, those big hands stroking his back up and down.  
  
Ned leans his head into the crook of Billy’s neck, relaxing a little already. He knows these hands, they’re not part of his nightmares and he moans quietly when they start kneading his shoulders. He turns his head a little only to feel it’s gotten stuck again and he grunts.  
  
“Bloody hell…”  
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll fix it for you.”  
  
Joji and Dr. Howell have taught Billy how to adjust bones, giving a third meaning to his name. The bony lad who got good at crushing bones and now has learned to put them back in place. He lays Ned down on the mattress, puts his head onto his lap, then cradles it and moves slightly around for a little while before making a sudden but careful twist to the left.  
  
It’s a strangely sweet thing, these cracks and popping sounds when his bones come back in place and the pressure onto his neck immediately comes off. Billy works through his neck, jaw and then the shoulders and it sounds like he’s breaking when, in fact, he’s healing and Ned no longer feels the need to apologies for, or explain, the tears.  
  
Billy works through his entire body with the adjustments and when he’s done, he pulls Ned’s shirt off and turns him down onto his stomach. Oil is dripping over his back and then the hands start working for real.  
  
It hurts, but in the good way and Billy’s hands never wander below the loop of Ned’s breeches. His lover will tell him when, ask him for permission, and right now he’s satisfied with just giving without getting anything in return. That’s just another reason why Ned loves him so madly and will probably never be able to express it to the actual meaning or extent of it. The fact that Billy gives with his heart, naturally and without an agenda is a treasure you can’t hunt for, because there’s no price on it.  
  
This, being treated like a thing of value in this manner, is something Ned would never tolerate from anyone but Billy, not even Eliza. The idea of a woman massaging him feels almost wrong. Abnormal, as the lack of retaliation against the animal who raped him.  
  
He needs to cry, doesn’t want to. So he cries. And Billy who’s never been a father or a husband, doesn’t ask, doesn’t comment because he’s still someone’s son and a monster to a world which rules he no longer abides by and therefor wont honor or even reckognize. In their world of thieves, crooks and monsters, a man is still allowed to cry. Sometimes even in the arms of someone who cares.  
  
 **Billy Bones**  
The kisses are wet from tears but that doesn’t stop them. It doesn’t stop Ned’s hands from grasping, his hips from grinding, his mouth from searching. They’re not in the way, they’re part of what they are, part of the raw, primal core of Ned that makes him who he is. Something wild with claws and teeth as sharp as ever, movements still not soft and deadly as they used to be, but nothing and no one will keep this man in a cage for long.  
  
He loves him. _God, how he loves this man_ and his heart is in sync with his body – and Ned’s with his. There’s no need to rush or to be desperate. They have each other, they have time, they have the peace and privacy needed but they’re clinging onto each other like it’s their last hour on Earth. This ache he’s never felt for anyone before is all he knows now, it’s devouring him and he needs to be careful to not get swept away by it.  
  
A little whimper from Ned stops him and Billy sees how the long hair has gotten tangled into the chord around Ned’s neck.  
  
“Stay still, lovey.”  
  
He carefully undoes the strain of hair from the two bands and when he holds the pieces of metal in his palm, he can feel his own heartbeats, too loud, too fast.  
  
“Aye…”  
  
Ned looks at him, seeing eye soft and then he sighs, a sound that seems strangely like one of both defeat and relief.  
  
“If ye’re not opposed to the idea o’ handling a one-eyed cripple for our remaining time together…”  
“Quite the opposite. How about you? You realise you’ll no longer be a captain, right?”  
“Not until Flint is dead…”  
  
Ned looks dead serious for a second and then he laughs, shaking his head.  
  
“Ye thought I was serious, aye? Jesus, the idea o’ ruling this crew, with Silver as a quartermaster… I’d rather return to Westminister an’ I _hate_ tha’ place!”  
  
Billy blushes. He knows his matelot, should know better than thinking he has any plans for a new captaincy. He strokes a thumb under the wet eyes.  
  
“So, if I’m fine with a one-eyed cripple and you with the loss of your title, then… uhm… would you…?”  
“Ye’ve never proposed before, have ye?”  
“No… How’s it working?”  
  
Ned laughs again, stroking his eyes and the seeing one is bright.  
  
“I’m a patient man, Mr. Bones. Go on.”  
“You’re enjoying my lack of experience, aren’t you?”  
“I am. But mostly I feel pretty honored.”  
  
There’s a wink, half a teasing grin.  
  
“I mean, I know I’m irresistable an’ all, but…”  
“Damnit, Ned! You wanna be my official matelot or not?”  
“Aye. I want tha’. Ye wannae be mine then, Billy Bones?”  
“Very much so, Mr. Low. Very much.”  
  
 **Ned Low**  
It’s just a contract, much like marriage only this one requires consent from both parties, not just the man and the bride’s father or closest male relative. Oh well, Eliza wanted to marry Ned, that was obvious and they were both older when they did, perhaps too old for their fathers or anyone else to have a say – not that any of them had fathers who’d care.  
  
On a pirate ship, it’s the Captain or quartermaster who’ll perform the matelotage ceremony and so, Mr. Silver stands before them with his crutch and the papers, the ink and rings to seal what’s already been known for some time. The men are gathered too of course, around the railing, some even in the sails and they’re already hooting and hollering to the point where Mr. Silver has to raise his voice and stomp the iron boot.  
  
“Oi! Shut the fuck up or we’ll be here all day and there’ll be no extra rum!”  
  
The men just laugh and boo at that because it’s an empty threat but they calm down too, letting their quartermaster continue.  
  
“Dearly beloved or whatever you lot are, we’re gathered here in the presence of…”  
“Davy Jones!”  
  
It’s Dooley, who else, and the men laugh while Mr. Silver just glares at the interruption and stomps his boot again.  
  
“In the presence of Davy Jones, any gods who might or might not be watching us and our Mother the Ocean, to join together our first mate Billy Bones and Captain Ned Low, in the union of matelotage. If anyone here has any objections, speak now and suffer the consequences of being ignored or forever hold your tongue and be spared having it cut off.”  
  
More laughter, Billy and Ned grin as well because this is just Mr. Silver loving to elaborate simple words into something more inspiring. Dooley gives an impatient wave.  
  
“Get on with it! We’re thirsty!”  
  
Another roar and Billy rolls his eyes.  
  
“Quartermaster, if you fucking please?”  
“You’re all some hopeless brutes here.”  
  
Mr. Silver glares again but continues.  
  
“Well then, do you, Billy Bones, first mate of the Walrus, take this Captain Ned Low to your matelot to share goods and conquests, quarters and lives together, for better and for worse, until death do you part?”  
“I do.”  
“And do you, Ned Low, Captain of… well, _former_ Captain of the Fancy, take this Billy Bones, first mate of the Walrus to your matelot, to share goods and conquests, quarters and lives together, for better and for worse, until death do you part?”  
“I do.”  
“Then, by the power I’ve been granted as your quartermaster, I hereby declare you two matelots and you may change rings and…”  
“Kiss!”  
“Fuck!”  
  
The shouts are lewd and happy when Billy puts the band on Ned’s finger and Ned does the same with him before Billy does what Ned never thought they'd do in the open and simply fucking lifts him while pressing a hard kiss on his mouth. The sun is setting too and Ned is not a romantic, just a wreckage that used to be a husband and a father and now somehow is seen as something to hold dear again.  
  
It’s been so long since he felt this… whole.  
  
 **Billy Bones  
** The men love a cause for celebration and the ship has become a hazard of booze and food, music and opium and every other possible indulgence one can get hold of without jeopardizing safety. Those who’re not drunk on rum are floating on the opium and even DeGroot is smiling. Flint is, as usual, standing a little to himself after having given his stern congratulations and Billy is honestly surprised he’s attending at all and doesn’t stay in his cabin.  
  
Being the centre of attention is a little exhausting and it feels good to just sit among the men with Ned on his lap. Among pirates, there’s nothing demeaning in that, not when you’re matelots and Billy sees Muldoon lean onto Silver’s shoulder as the quartermaster tells one of his stories. Mary Read, who usually remains close to Silver, is sitting on one of the barrels, not far from Flint and she’s drinking, laughing along with the others but also clear-eyed and alert.  
  
Tucked inside Billy’s shirt, there’s a signed document declaring him the matelot of Ned Low. A copy of it lays in the pocket of Ned’s jacket and a third one in the ship’s log. They’re bound to each other now, have promised to share everything – including any men or women they might want to take to bed. Billy honestly doesn’t know if that’s ever going to happen. They’re not Silver and Muldoon, this union is more than necessity, more than survival and mutual support and they’re not interested in sharing.  
  
As the night goes on, the men dance and sing, stumble and fight, puke and laugh, hollor and drink more than they should – just as a matelotage celebration should be like. It’s a good thing and Billy has had a good time – as has Ned – but it’s time to retreat to their private quarter in the carter cargo space and Billy whispers in his now official matelots ear, receives a smile and a little nod and so they quietly leave the feast, noticed only by Silver who smiles and gives a little wink.  
  
They walk down to their quarters and when Billy opens the door, he must laugh.  
  
“The fuck is this…?”  
  
Someone has piled up all the pillows and blankets and mattresses to be found on the ship, into something that looks like a heap of fabrics. Apparantly, they’re having a wedding bed and Ned is groaning, they’re both rolling their eyes because it’s stupid, it’s unnecessary and it’s so goddamn thoughtful none of them know what to say.  
  
A vial with what surely must be oil is put next to it, along with more rum and some water. Ned shakes his head.  
  
“This is Silver’s doing…?”  
“Most likely Muldoon’s.”  
“Of course…”  
  
The smile is a little wry but Billy loves how it shows his matelot’s feral side in the flickering light. How the seeing eye isn’t lost somewhere else now and how the hair is unruly and long, tresses catching light from the shimmering flickers and so does the ring that isn’t black, but in gold.  
  
It’s the same finger, though. Ned’s mourning band now hangs in the chord around his neck. The wife he lost will always be there, but she’s not the now anymore. Ned’s _past_ isn’t the now and maybe the time Billy and him share together will be short due to war or storms, unfortunate winds or mere stupidity but right now they’re one. Not just matelots in the practical sense, but something more and Billy knows so little of this, of what it means to be one with someone else in the name, how it is to belong not just to parents or a crew, but to a man, _as_ a man.  
  
They’re not strangers to each other, haven’t been for a long time, and while it feels strangely new and a little ceremonial, Billy’s heart is fluttering as they start undressing and he kneels before Ned, not for some love declaration or even awe, but because he just needs to. He gently moves Ned’s hands away and starts undoing his matelot’s belt, feeling the smile extending to the hand brushing over his head.  
 _  
I am yours now and you are mine. It’s sealed, it’s been heard, it’s in writing, it’s been witnessed and there’s no shame, none what so ever.If such freedom isn’t a cause for celebration, my love, then what is?  
_  
 **Ned Low**  
He’s leaned back on the pile of softness that looked ridiculous at first sight but is very practical and most likely Silver’s idea. Ned’s body is being rested, upheld and he can relax into the support and let… go.  
  
He’s done this before, this is his second wedding night, one could almost say, and this time he’s not looking down at a smiling, impish Eliza, but up at a serious and oh, so gentle Billy Bones. Does that make Ned the wife? A woman? Definitely not. The world’s labels are but shite and it’s only when ripped off that you’ll see the true nature of a man.  
  
 _Husband. Monster. Father. Son.  
  
Lover. Matelot._  
  
So many names for the things a man can be to someone and Ned wants, oh, by God, how he wants, _needs_ to be what his father once brought him to see being punished, humiliated, dehumanized and condemned. He holds onto Billy with hard hands now as he’s feeling that hot cave swallowing him down.  
  
He’d almost forgotten how much he loves this and it’s that realisation that hits him hard enough to squeeze wetness from his shut eyes. Not much, just a damp reminder of the fact the no matter what he’s done since loosing Eliza, no matter how much he’s tried to become something else than a man, something that can’t grief, can’t be drowned in sorrow, he’s still just that: a simple man who needs for someone to call him by his name with a soft voice.  
  
He whimpers under Billy’s ministrations, from the hands that don’t tug but caress, the increasing suction that has his lower back arch enough for arms to slide underneath it. Embracing, protective. A thing of value, treated with reverence.  
  
How did that happen?  
  
Billy’s palm is now stroking his chest, his stomach and Ned has to bite his wrist when his balls are suddenly being fondled in palm slick with oil. He grabs his cock by the base and Billy stops.  
  
“You’re hurt?”  
“Fuck no, just… not prepared.”  
“You want me to stop?”  
“No!”  
  
Ned is breathing fast, stomach moving in a curve and his balls are a heavy weight in Billy’s palm. He feels raw, the air not cut off, his blood flowing freely again, he’s riding the storm like he used to, untamed and he knows what he wants and it’s not to dominate or being dominated. He needs to be held by someone whole, someone who’s scars have healed enough to tell a tale of life instead of mere survival.  
  
Billy drops his cock, it falls swollen and leaking onto Ned’s stomach, smearing his skin with Billy’s spit. Blue eyes locking his own.  
  
“You want to fuck me, Ned?”  
“No.”  
  
Ned swallows.  
  
“Missed ye in me… I… I wan’ ye like before again… An’ don’ ask me if I’m sure… _matelot._ ”  
“Then I wont.”  
  
 **Billy Bones**  
He wants this too. He’s missed that slick tightness badly but his matelot has had too many recent nightmares for that and Billy silently promises himself not to get lost in this as he takes the vial of oil and coats a finger.  
  
He widens Ned’s legs further and slides down so he’s practically burying his face in the perineum. Ned holds his cock and balls away and Billy grinds his own hips down the mattress for a little relief as he goes down. He licks long stripes over the once abused opening, slow and shallow and the musky taste is as addictive as ever. He undoes one of his leather strings from his wrist and ties it around the base of his own cock, swirls it around the balls because there’s just no way he’ll be able to focus otherwise.  
  
As soon as he’s done, he drops back down, feels Ned’s hand in his hair again, encouraging and steady, not desperate for support or a force to push him away. He feels the small hairs, the muscle slowly opening up, tension and unuse as well as abuse, a memory they have to fight gently if they’re to win and Billy pets Ned’s stomach in circles, lifting his head for a moment.  
  
“I’ve been there too, love… Was a long time ago but I’ve not forgotten… And I know it doesn’t have to be like that.. forever. And never between _us_.”  
  
 _Because you’re my matelot. My mate, my man, my spouse no matter what the world says._  
  
“I trust ye, lovey.”  
  
That’s all he needs. All he wants to know, they can find out the rest as they go and when he presses the tip of his tongue further in, making Ned whimper loud, he knows he’s walking down the right path. The leather band prevents him from worrying about not lasting. He’s so hard, aching and it’s almost painful, which somehow feels right too. They should share this together.  
  
He starts by just rubbing the tip of his finger in a circle around Ned’s hole, not entering or pressing, just stroking for long moments while taking the tied off cock in his mouth again. Ned is hot and wanting underneath him, his legs now coming around Billy’s thighs, hips helplessly pushing up for more.  
  
“Please, Billy…”  
  
He knows what the plea means and Billy takes the vial of oil, but doesn’t coat his finger. Instead he takes a small sip into his mouth and bends Ned’s thighs further apart. Using two fingers to widen him, he places his lips right over the puckered opening and tries to slip as much oil in as possible before letting both fingers follow.  
  
“Oh, fuck… Yes… _Yes…_ ”  
  
It’s messy as hell but the way Ned all but sobs as Billy starts fucking him with his fingers, is worth it. He works him slow and thoroughly, making sure to touch everywhere he can in that tight wetness and sending a prayer of thanks to the leather strap.  
  
Ned looks wrecked, tossing his head around and Billy realises his matelot might be feeling too much too soon and so he pulls his fingers out and leans over, pressing a kiss onto his forehead.  
  
“Are you alright, my love?”  
“Aye…”  
  
But he seems shaky and so Billy cradles him gently, bringing them down a little as to not get lost in a way that might stirr up unwelcomed memories. He takes his man’s face between his palms, kissing his lips softly.  
  
“I’m yours, Ned. Just yours…”  
  
He kisses his cheeks, then his eyes, his forehead, his ears and each side of the neck.  
  
“I love you, we’re one now, Ned. You and me, my sweet… We’re _one_.”  
  
 **Ned Low**  
It’s not her face he’s seeing, not even as a shadow. Billy’s eyes look at him in a way that makes Ned feel all those things he thought died with the woman with brown braids – and then other things still unfamiliar to him. He loved his wife, still loves her even in death, but to be held by Billy like this, is entirely something else.  
  
The anger, the hatred, that slow boiling of his blood he’s felt ever since he formed his first memories, just can’t reach him here. In the arms of his matelot, he’s safe in a way that isn’t as much about the physical as of the soul.  
  
 _Soul._ More than once, people have told him he’s soulless and they’ve been right. He just didn’t know a soul could be found again in the world of the living. It’s not a pure one by any means and as he once again gets lost in the man kissing him, he’s still honest enough to know the monster he is – at least partly. A monster, a menace to the world, but also a lonely husband, a lost father and a son on the run. A pirate and a sodomite, tasting the forbidden fruit of paradise in an embrace condemned to hell.  
  
Billy enters him so slowly it seems like they’ve been doing this for an eternity, but Ned doesn’t mind one bit. He’s no longer on the run, not here because in these arms he’s home and he gasps as Billy finally is all the way in, so smooth there’s not even an initial burn, just slick filling and that spot deep inside him that sets him on fire in the right way.  
  
Eyes as dark as the sea at night looks right into him and there was a time when Ned couldn’t face them, when he couldn’t stand someone seeing the human inside his depraved soul, least of all these serious, quiet ones.  
  
“We’re one… We’re not alone anymore, Ned… My sweet, darling Ned…”  
  
Once such delicate words would’ve been a cause to draw knives, but Ned’s shame has never been about his late discovered lust for men but for the fear of being seen for who he is and meet a gaze of the same disgust that stares back at him through the mirror. The hard, relentless gaze speaking of weakness, of pathetic boys acting like little girls, whimpy women and unnatural men deserving to be dragged around in dresses on the square for everyone to see before getting castrated and hanged.  
  
In his home there were no sweet darlings, no unity and the only one showing that a man could be gentle, was a woman. Maybe a speck of Myra Low’s soul stuck on her brute of a son after all. Maybe he can love without ruining eveything and everyone around him. Even himself.  
  
He pulls Billy down to him, wants him closer, deeper inside him and Ned gasps with every thrust, feeling how he stays right where he wants to be, not floating off or running away from the tender words, the loving hands. He’s not shattered, he’swounded but still one and whole, a man of flesh and blood who loves and is loved by another man. Who makes love to that man and without a soul, you can’t love.  
  
He’s not forgotten her face, will still close his eyes and see it before him, but right now he only sees the man who promised to be his and Ned digs blunt nails into his back as the feeling he’d almost forgotten about builds up inside him and he’s rambling some incoherent shite when the sweet tension increases and he shoots without being touched, climax pulsating through his wreckage of a body and for a blissful moment, nothing – inside or outside – hurts.  
  
 **Billy Bones**  
He’s lost all concept of time and place, of where he ends and Ned starts. There’s nothing separating them now, even their own sets of skin seem to form a union rather than barriers. He’s holding Ned on his lap, still buried deep inside him and Ned’s legs over his own, nothing but skin and warmth, sweat and seed, half-muted whimpers and stuttering breaths.  
  
Ned is leaning onto his shoulder and Billy strokes palms across his back, not sure who he’s trying to soothe because his matelot is so calm and lax.  
  
“I’d almost forgotten…”  
  
Ned’s voice is soft, so gentle it’s almost shocking and Billy feels lips resting onto his collarbone.  
  
“Almost forgotten how much I loved this…”  
  
Surprise, maybe. A lingering sadness from wounds that will take time to heal. They’re still united, Billy’s still buried inside his lover, his matelot, his…  
  
“Husband…”  
“Wha’?”  
“This… this is the closest I’ll ever be to being that, I guess… A husband…”  
  
Ned lifts his head, looking at him with a gaze that is filled with raw tenderness, unmasked and unashamed. He’s an animal, a wild thing, not to be tamed but to be set free, from himself and the grief he’s been shackled by for so long.  
  
He takes Billy’s hand and puts it onto his chest, across that restless, wounded heart who’s beats are one with Billy’s own now.  
  
“I’ll never want another wife, lovey, an’ I’ll never wannae hear a _woman_ call me husband again. Tha’… tha’ place is already… taken.”  
  
Billy nods, he thinks he understands and then Ned gives a helpless, wide smile, the dead spot in his one seeing eye no longer there.  
  
“But I’ve never had a _husband_. No one’s claimed _tha’_ place before…”  
“There is a place then? Ungodly as it probably is…”  
“No more than we already are, surely.”  
“Husband…”  
  
He tries the word, rolls it on his tongue that bares Ned’s taste. The man still smiles and there’s light in his pale blue eye now. Their matelotage bed is lumpy and moist but it’s theirs, so is this union they chose and the love they share isn’t one of honor or delicay, of duty or godliness.  
  
Their love is monstrous, savage, untamed and condemned. It’s barren, wild and kept in the darkness of the world. But it’s theirs and Billy’s already weak heart trembles from the beauty of it, when the man who’ll never have another wife, curls up onto his chest, features completely free of self-hatred for the first time since the past Billy is no part of.  
  
“Ye’re my heart an’ soul now… _Husband…_ ”  
  
And Billy can only pull him closer, the husband he didn’t know he could have, the love he didn’t know where to search for and the freedom only a doomed man can allow himself. By the time they drift away together, the first light of dawn touches the sea and they meet their first day as matelots – as husbands – sleeping in a tangled embrace where their long years of loneliness, finally can rest.


End file.
